


iscariot

by heckyheck_icravedeath



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: A lot - Freeform, Aged-Up Peter Parker, Angst, Author Is Sleep Deprived, Dubious Consent, Emotional Manipulation, Even Dead I'm The Hero, First Time, I tried though, M/M, Peter Parker Angst, Peter Parker Needs a Break, Peter Parker Needs a Hug, Peter Parker is a Mess, Quentin Beck Being a Jerk, Spider-Man: Far From Home (Movie), The Author Regrets Everything, Tony Stark is big boi dead:((, Villain Quentin Beck, but a hot one, he's a bitch, i cannot handle writing in depth when it's smut dfsjkdjfkds, i mean same though, i miss him, im gunna kms, it's not very descriptive, please accept my sad attempt at it, smh, those fucking glasses
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-16
Updated: 2019-11-16
Packaged: 2021-02-07 05:44:01
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,491
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21452971
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/heckyheck_icravedeath/pseuds/heckyheck_icravedeath
Summary: The bar was dimly lit with few people inside, which was nice considering the circumstances. Peter didn't feel like being surrounded by drunk Europeans after the fight with the Elementals.  Granted he only did so much. Mysterio did most of the work, including almost dying just to save the world.That's something Tony would do. Something he did do actually.His mind made him think, dampening his mood further. “You doing okay, kid?” Mysterio asked. “You seem upset for someone who just saved the world.”Peter laughed humorlessly. “I didn't do anything. You get all the credit for that.”“Oh come on. That isn't true.” Mysterio set his empty beer bottle down next to Peter's half full glass of lemonade. Their arms brushed in the process causing Peter to shiver slightly. There was justsomethingabout the touch that made him feel all tingly and warm. He shook his head and tried to ignore that feeling.
Relationships: Peter Parker & Tony Stark, Quentin Beck/Peter Parker
Comments: 14
Kudos: 40





	iscariot

**Author's Note:**

> this is my first attempt at any kind of smut, so please go easy on me. it's not a lot nor is it descriptive, but still. it's not amazing or anything, but i tried lmao. a

The bar was dimly lit with few people inside, which was nice considering the circumstances. Peter didn't feel like being surrounded by drunk Europeans after the fight with the Elementals. Granted he only did so much. Mysterio did most of the work, including almost dying just to save the world. _That's something Tony would do. Something he did do actually_. His mind made him think, dampening his mood further. “You doing okay, kid?” Mysterio asked. “You seem upset for someone who just saved the world.”

Peter laughed humorlessly. “I didn't do anything. You get all the credit for that.” 

“Oh come on. That isn't true.” Mysterio set his empty beer bottle down next to Peter's half full glass of lemonade. Their arms brushed in the process causing Peter to shiver slightly. There was just _something_ about the touch that made him feel all tingly and warm. He shook his head and tried to ignore that feeling.

“Sure.” Peter responded along with a small shrug, not trusting himself to say anything else without embarrassing himself. And also because there wasn’t much else to be said. He really _didn’t_ do anything during the fight. Almost similar to how it was during the fight with Thanos. What a hero he was. 

A silence fell between the two, leaving Peter to think some more. Mostly about Tony as it usually was. He couldn't seem to get the deceased hero out of his head no matter how hard he tried to forget. It was horrible. He just wanted a break. _A break_. He almost laughed. He knew he wouldn't be getting one. Peter Parker never got a break. 

That was another thing. It was supposed to be a vacation and somehow it turned into _you have to save the world! We need you to!_ All thanks to Nick Fury and his gang of men in black.

So much for his “Big Plan” to tell MJ how he felt. At this rate he'd never be able to tell her. Maybe that was a good thing. He didn't want to drag her into all the Spider-Man crap. She didn't need that.

Mysterio shifted in his seat to face Peter fully and then said “What do you want?” 

“Huh?” Peter raised an eyebrow in confusion. 

“I know this,” Mysterio pointed to Peter's suit. “Is not what you want right now, so what do you want?” 

_Oh_. Speaking in terms of that, Peter knew what he wanted. He wanted to go on his vacation. He wanted to tell MJ how he felt. He wanted to leave the worries and things associated with Spider-Man alone for a little while. He wanted to breathe without there being a pressure on his chest from all the stress and responsibility. He wanted to be a _normal_ teenager for once in his life. Just _once_. But did it really matter what he wanted? He knew he couldn’t have it. That’s not how the world worked. He would have to live the superhero life, and that was that. He wouldn’t ever get to lead a normal life. 

“Why does that matter? I’ll never get it.” Peter huffed a sigh and ran a hand through his hair. 

“You can’t think like that. Maybe things will change. You never know, Peter.” Mysterio _did_ have a point, but then again, superheroes never really got the life they wanted. Just look at Steve Rogers. Or Natasha Romanoff. Or even Tony Stark. They all had to do things that they didn’t want to. They all had to live lives that were definitely the opposite of what they wanted. Why would it be any different for Peter? 

“Mysterio...or...um...Mr. Beck, I’m a superhero. I have to constantly save the world. I’ll never get the life I want.” Plus the life Peter _wanted_ included an alive Tony Stark and by the looks of it that certainly wasn’t happening. 

“Please call me Quentin.” Myster..._Quentin_ flashed Peter a smile — which was a rather nice smile — then turned serious again. “And that’s true, but anything could happen. You literally stick to walls and if _that’s_ possible then living a normal life can be somehow.” Another good point. 

“I mean...that’s true.” 

“See? Just trust me on this. Things will work out eventually, and you’ll get what you want.” He insisted, and that nice smile returned to his lips. Peter couldn’t help but smile back and in that moment he decided to put _all_ of his trust into Quentin. 

Before Peter could get another word out a woman was tapping his shoulder and holding his glasses. “Did you drop these, sweetie?” 

_Shit_. “Yes, I did.” He grabbed the glasses and checked for any scratches or cracks. He would _never_ forgive himself if he broke them because he was being careless. “Thank you.” He gave the woman a small smile before turning back to the glasses and doing another once over just to be _sure_ that they were okay. 

Once he was positive of no harm being done to them, he set them down in front of him and sighed. No one would ever be able to live up to Tony. _Especially_ Peter. He was an 18 year old who had absolutely no idea what he was doing. That doesn’t exactly scream _pick me! I’ll be the next IronMan for you!_

“Try them on.” Quentin gestured towards the glasses, pulling Peter back into reality. 

He huffed a laugh and agreed even though he didn’t exactly want to wear them. But when he put them on, a ghost of a smile was there. It felt _nice_ to have them on. He felt close to Tony in a way. 

“What do you think?” He asked while plastering a grin on his face. 

“Can I be honest with you?” _Oh no_. Peter let out a breath and started to play with his fingers. Did he really look bad? If he did, he didn’t really want to know. It would make him feel worse than he already did. But he didn’t exactly want to be lied to either. Not when it included these glasses and Tony. 

“Yeah.” His voice sounded so small, and he hated it. Did it really matter? They were just _glasses_. But they were _Tony’s glasses_. So yes, it did matter. It mattered _a lot_. 

“They don’t look bad.” _Okay_... “But they don’t exactly suit you.” There it was. The thing that hurt. _They don’t exactly suit you_. Figures. He was no Tony. Nothing that Tony made would suit him. That’s just how it was. How it always would be. 

Peter fought to keep the smile on his face. He couldn’t be weak in front of another superhero. Superheroes weren’t supposed to be weak. They weren’t supposed to _cry_. 

“You try them on.” Peter offered. It would get the attention away from his look in the glasses, and that was what he desperately wanted. Plus he figured the glasses would suit Quentin a lot better anyway. He _was_ naturally good looking, and — in Peter’s opinion — glasses made people even better looking. 

“No. I couldn’t.” 

Peter held the glasses out to Quentin. “Just try them.” 

After a few moments Quentin let out a defeated sigh. “Alright.” He grabbed the glasses slowly, brushing their hands together. The warm and tingly feeling returned and Peter bit down on his bottom lip. He didn’t know why the feeling was there...Well, he had a couple of ideas, but he didn’t know which one was true and which one wasn’t. And to be honest he didn’t want to find out. 

“So...how do I look?” Quentin grinned while winking. He actually _winked_. 

Peter found it hard to breathe after that. 

“I...uh…you look...really good.” He stared at the man in front of him and felt mesmerized. He didn’t think it was possible for Quentin to get _easier_ on the eyes yet there they were. Quentin looked...there wasn’t even a word to describe it. Nothing could describe how _pretty_ he actually looked. “They _definitely_ suit you.” 

“Thank you.” His grin deepened. “I wasn't expecting that to be the answer. Glasses usually don’t make me look good.” 

“Clearly you aren’t trying the right glasses then. Those look _super_ good on you.” Peter wished he could smack himself for saying that. He could compliment the guy if he wanted to, but not like that. _That_ was flirting, and he definitely wasn't trying to flirt. 

“Is that so?” Quentin’s grin turned into a teasing smile. 

“...um...” Peter felt his face heat up. He wished he could blame it on the air, but the bar was far from hot. It was warm, but a mellow warmth. Not enough to make his face as red as it was, which was rather unfortunate because Quentin knew and he seemed to find it funny. He let out a bunch of laughs as Peter hid his face in his hands, which was also rather unfortunate because he had a really nice laugh and as soon as the thought came into Peter’s mind, he blushed harder. 

Quentin stopped laughing a few moments later, and Peter took that as his time to uncover his face. He avoided eye contact, though. He knew he’d start blushing again if he looked into Quentin’s eyes and that’s what he wanted to keep from doing. He had already embarrassed himself plenty.

“Here are your glasses.” Quentin took off the glasses and set them down beside Peter. “Keep those safe. For Tony.” Peter started to nod, but he stopped when an idea struck him. 

“Keep them.” 

“_What?_” 

“Keep them. You could keep them safe better than I could.” It was true. Quentin was _Mysterio_, an actual superhero. He was an adult and someone who actually knew what he was doing. He could do better things with those glasses than Peter ever could. He could keep them safe better than Peter ever could. It just made _sense_. 

“How many lemonades have you had, Peter? I can’t take those glasses. He gave them to _you_. He trusts _you_ with them.” Quentin said, all traces of his smile gone. 

“But I’m just a _kid_. You aren’t.” Quentin opened his mouth to say something, but Peter beat him to it. “And he trusts me to make the right decision with them. The right decision is giving them to someone more experienced and smarter than I am. And that’s you. It makes sense.” 

“I’m not smarter-” 

“Quentin, come on. It works out for both of us in the end. The world will be in your hands; safe and sound. And I know you want to keep this world safe. And I’ll be able to live a somewhat normal life like you said. It’s _perfect_.” 

“I don’t think-” Peter ignored the objection and put the glasses on. 

“EDITH?” 

“Yes, Peter?” 

“Transfer all power over to Quentin Beck.” 

“Peter, wait. _Please_.” 

“I need you to confirm this.” EDITH’s voice was ignored by both. 

“What’s wrong?” Peter looked at Quentin with confusion in his eyes. He didn’t understand what the big deal was. He was simply giving Quentin a pair of glasses. An important pair of glasses, yes, but still. He trusted Quentin to do the right thing with them. 

“I think we should go for a walk. Fresh air would be good. And we can talk about this more; away from people.” Peter gave a small nod and slipped off of his chair. He headed towards the door with Quentin right behind him. 

Once they were outside Quentin led them down a street that was dead silent except for the sound of their footsteps. It made Peter slightly on edge. He hated the quiet. It reminded him of the Soul World. It reminded him of all the pain _that_ situation had been.

“Not a fan of quiet?” Quentin turned back to look at Peter. He seemed to be genuinely concerned about Peter’s well being. It was pleasant that he actually cared and wasn’t all professional like Fury. And it was kind of cute the way Quentin’s eyes showed his concern. _No, stop that_. He mentally scolded himself. _It’s not cute_. “Peter?” Right, he asked a question. 

“Oh, uh, not really. Not since…” He lifted his hand and snapped his fingers, implying _that_ situation. He didn’t want to outright say it. The name _Thanos_ left a horrible taste in his mouth. 

“Shit. I’m sorry.” Quentin gave him one of _those_ looks and Peter hated it. He got enough of those looks as it was. He didn't need _more_ of them. Especially not from Quentin; the one person who hadn’t treated him like a baby. 

“It’s fine.” 

“We could go somewhere with a little background noise if you want.” He offered with a small smile. 

“Uh, yes please. Thanks.” Peter gave the best smile he could. Quentin nodded and started off in a different direction.

It was still quiet as of then, so Peter looked at the glasses and tried to distract himself with them. It helped with his problem, but only because it made a new one. He was giving them away. Just thinking of that made his heart sink. It was the only thing left of Tony that he had. He _did_ have the suits, but it wasn’t the same. The glasses were given to him as a show of trust and love. The suits were more of a thing to protect Peter since he wasn’t all that smart sometimes. Still a show of love, but it wasn’t the same as the glasses. 

He knew it was stupid to think like that. He couldn’t keep them. He’d essentially be keeping the world from being safe. And that was a really selfish thing to do. He knew that. But he still couldn’t help thinking it. It could be stupid and selfish, but he’d still think it. Just like he would still think about Tony no matter what. 

A door opened, and Peter finally pulled his gaze from the glasses and put his doubt on hold. That’s when he realized that there was now the faint sound of music and people talking, and Quentin had been the one who opened a door. It was the door to some hotel that looked rather fancy. “Where are we?” 

“The hotel I’m staying in. Fury set it up for me.” Quentin headed towards the elevator. “I figured it’s a good spot since there’s a bar not to far from here with music and all that, so it’s not too quiet for you. And we can talk more in a private place.” 

“Good idea. Thank you.” Peter climbed into the elevator and watched Quentin pressed the button with four written on it. 

“No problem, Pete.” _Pete_. The way he said it made Peter get the feeling he had been getting all night; the warm, tingly feeling. The feeling that made his heart beat just a little faster. The feeling that made him start to grin like an idiot, which he attempted to hide by looking the other way. He tried to make it seem like he was examining the walls of the elevator, but he knew that Quentin knew that wasn’t the case. He was glad Quentin didn’t comment on it, though. He had no idea what he would even say. And knowing him, he’d probably make the situation worse if he said anything. That was something that happened a lot. 

The elevator dung, signaling their arrival on the fourth floor. Quentin stepped out first, beckoning Peter to follow him down the hall to the right. He stopped short in front of the room 413. “It’s a pretty nice room. I think you’ll like it.” He opened the door with ease and let Peter enter first. 

Peter didn’t know exactly what he was expecting when he walked into the room, but it definitely wasn’t what he saw. There was a large, white bed with comfortable looking pillows atop it against the farthest wall with two end tables on either side. The lamps that accompanied the end tables were small but cute. Peter liked them a whole lot. He also liked the painting that hung above the bed. It went well with the curtains that laid on the sides of the window to the right of the bed. Two white chairs, a beige couch, and a glass table were across from the window, giving the room a perfect look. The view from the window made the room even more perfect. There was also a bathroom off to the side, but Peter didn’t pay much attention to that. He was putting all of his attention to the couch that looked amazingly comfy. “This is...Wow.” 

“I knew you’d like it.” Quentin smiled and then settled onto the couch Peter had been eyeing. Peter joined him and was nowhere near disappointed when he sat down. It was the best couch he had ever sat on in his entire life. He almost started to doze off when he felt the glasses in his hands. That’s when he remembered that they were here to talk about _that_ and all the stuff that went along with _that_. A sigh escaped his lips. He didn’t want to have to face his doubt and his selfishness, but he had to. He couldn’t be a coward. 

“So...the glasses…” Peter bit his bottom lip. 

“Are you one hundred percent sure that you want to do this?” 

“No...not really.” He admitted, eyes downcast. “It’s dumb. Like real dumb, but these glasses are the only thing I have left of him and I just...I don’t know if I can give them away.” 

“Hey, look at me.” Peter did. “It’s not dumb. Not at all. You have _every_ right to feel that way.” 

“But it’s so selfish of me. The world needs to be safe and if I keep these then I’m keeping the world from being safe.” 

“Peter, it’s not selfish to think of yourself for once.” Quentin placed his hand on Peter’s arm. “You need to do worry about _you_ sometimes. You need to focus on what’s good for _you_ sometimes.” 

Peter tried to focus on the words. He really did. It was a serious situation, and he needed to _listen_. But he found that the only thing he could focus on was Quentin’s hand on his arm. It was warm and on the softer side, which Peter found surprising. He figured it would be more calloused with being a superhero and all. He wasn’t complaining, though. It was _very_ pleasant. He bet it would be _more_ pleasant if he was holding Quentin’s hand. He bet it would be _even more_ pleasant if Quentin’s hand was cupping his face and if Quentin’s lips were being pressed against his- _woah, woah, woah. What the fuck? That is not a thought you should be having, Peter_. He mentally told himself while letting a frown etch its way onto his face. Quentin was a friend _only_. Peter needed to stop thinking about anything beyond that. 

Before anything else could go on in his head about the matter he was being shaken by the shoulder. “Are you even listening to me?” Quentin’s voice fully zoned Peter back into reality. 

“Yeah. Of course I am.” Peter lied. He didn’t want to say _no, sorry. I was just thinking about kissing you haha_. So lying it was. But he also knew that Quentin would see right through it. Peter was a terrible liar and Quentin wasn’t stupid. 

“No, you aren’t.” Quentin called him out just as he had suspected. 

“I’m sorry. I just...got lost in thought.” Not really a lie this time. 

“It’s alright. Just know you don’t have to give them to me. It’s okay if you want to keep them. They _are_ yours.” Right, that decision needed to be made soon. And yet he kept letting his mind wander to how close they were. It wasn’t _that_ close, but their knees were brushing _and_ Quentin’s hand stilled rested on Peter’s shoulder. All the contact made thinking a _very_ hard thing to do. Apparently so much that Quentin had to shake him again to get him actually thinking properly. “Peter??” 

“...sorry. I’m kinda...not focused.” 

“Clearly.” His tone didn’t hold any annoyance. It was more so an amused tone, which surprised Peter. Most people would’ve been angry with him for zoning out more than once in a conversation, not amused. “And why is that?” _Uh-_

“No reason…” 

“Uh huh.” _Goddamnit_. 

Peter let out a nervous laugh and scratched the back of his neck, a nervous habit he had picked up from Ben. He didn’t know what to say or do. He absolutely could _not_ say the actual reason. Things would go downhill so fast. But he also didn’t want to lie. He had already done that, and Quentin had called him out on his bullshit. So essentially he was stuck. 

“You know you can tell me anything, right?” Quentin asked while scooting closer, bringing their knees _completely_ against each other. Peter sucked in a breath sharply. If Quentin came any closer Peter was sure he would die. 

“I...I know.” His voice wavered too much for his liking. He hoped to God that Quentin missed it. But he knew better than to think Quentin would miss it, so he looked away. He didn’t want to see the reaction he was going to get. 

He was met with silence for a few moments, which caused him some panic. But the real panic happened when Quentin moved the hand from Peter’s shoulder to _cup his cheek_ and then made Peter turn to face him again. “Pete, are you alright? You’re kind of worrying me.” 

“I, uh…” He stumbled over his words, not sure what to say other than _please kiss me_. Quentin’s lips were _right there_. It wouldn’t take that much to just lean forward- _no. Stop_. 

Quentin gave him a questioning look. “Please tell me what’s wrong.” _You’re too close_. He wanted to say. He didn’t, though. Instead, he stayed quiet, which earned him a frown and a “_Peter_.” 

Now there were plenty of things he could’ve said or done to fix the situation, or at least help the situation a _little_ bit. But for whatever reason his mind said _run_. And that’s what he did. “I should go.” 

“What?” 

“Everyone is probably worried about me, so I should go.” Peter stood up and handed Quentin the glasses. “Take good care of them.” He couldn’t be selfish and keep them. The world needed to be safe. He would be okay. He had his suits from Tony, and that had to be enough. 

“Peter-” Quentin started, but Peter interrupted him. 

“I’ll see you around, Quentin.” He felt bad. He truly did. But it was for the best. If he stayed, he’d ruin their friendship and he didn’t want that. He ruined enough things; this shouldn’t be on that list. Plus he was only there for the glasses and since he decided to give them to Quentin there was really no other reason for him to be there. 

He started towards the door, but before he could reach it Quentin grabbed his wrist. “Wait. Please.” His Spider Sense went off in the back of his head. _Just leave. Don’t wait. Be smart about this, Peter_. 

He was going to trust his senses and simply leave, but then Quentin had to make things difficult. “_Please_.” It was so quiet, so pleading. It made Peter turn back around and look at Quentin, which was a mistake. Those eyes looked so _sad_. They looked too _desperate_ for him to stay. How was he supposed to just _leave_ when he was being looked at like _that_? 

“I…” He let out a breath. “Five minutes. I’ll stay for _five minutes_. That’s it, though.” 

Quentin nodded, but didn’t move. He stayed standing in front of Peter with his hand still wrapped around Peter’s wrist. “So…” He took a step closer. 

Peter had no idea what the _fuck_ was going on. “So…?” 

Then Quentin’s eyes flickered down to Peter’s lips and he took a few more steps closer so that he was _extremely_ close. The hand that wasn’t holding Peter’s wrist came to rest under Peter’s chin and tilt his head upwards. 

_Oh God, oh God, oh God_. 

“W...what are you doing?” He asked even though he had a pretty decent idea as to what Quentin was doing. He was just panicking. It was what he always did in any situation. 

“Nothing.” That was _bullshit_, and Peter was going to call him out, but before he could say anything Quentin closed the space between them, pressing their lips together. 

Peter was frozen for a few seconds before his brain finally had the sense to say _kiss back you idiot_. And he did just that, though there was the tiniest bit of doubt in the back of his mind. That doubt was saying _you don’t really want this. You just think you do because he’s the first person to show you actual affection since Tony died and you want affection_. 

Some of that was true; he hadn’t gotten much affection since Tony died. It was like everyone was afraid to touch him. It was like they thought he would break if they did. May the most. She still hugged him, kissed his forehead and whatnot, but it was all so _tentative_. He hated it. He wasn’t a child, and he wasn’t going to _break_. He was hurt, yes, but that didn’t make him some fragile object. 

Quentin didn’t treat him like that. Quentin treated him like a capable human being. Quentin wasn’t so tentative about his actions. He wasn’t afraid to break Peter and Peter liked that. That’s what he wished everyone was like. 

That’s when Peter realized that his doubt was essentially right. He was so _desperate_ for affection that he didn’t care who gave it to him and that wasn’t exactly a good thing. It made him vulnerable and it made him _stupid_. It set him up to get hurt by people. 

_What makes you think Quentin won’t hurt you?_ Doubt whispered to him, making him tense slightly. _And what makes you think this means anything? Maybe it’s just a spur of the moment thing to him. You can’t read his mind. He could be planning on hurting you. That made him pull away from the kiss_. Doubt was right. He didn’t know any of this. And he didn’t even want this. He was just deprived of affection. He was just being desperate. 

“Are you okay?” Quentin gave Peter a confused look, similar to one of a confused puppy. 

“I need to go.” He took a step away. “It’s been more than five minutes.” He knew it was a shitty thing to say, but he couldn’t tell the truth. It would hurt, and he didn’t want to hurt Quentin more than he already knew he was going to. 

“Peter-” 

“Can I just go? Please?” Peter wanted this to be easy. He just wanted to pretend none of this happened. 

“Why?” 

“Because...I just…” He shook his head and tugged his wrist free from Quentin's grasp. “I just need to go.” He turned and went to open the door. 

But of course things weren't going to be that easy. 

Quentin was in front of the door before Peter could grab the handle, blocking him from his only exit. _Great_. “That’s unfair, you know; running away and not telling me why.” There was a silence — Peter couldn’t bring himself to say anything — then Quentin sighed. “I care about you, Peter. I _like_ you. And I think-” 

“Wait. You _like_ me? Like _genuinely like_ me?” 

“I did just kiss you, didn’t I?” 

“Yeah, but that wasn’t just a spur of the moment thing? You _meant_ that?” 

“Yes, I _meant_ that, Peter.” 

“Oh.” _This doesn’t change much. You still don’t even want this. You’re just desperate and he’s here, ready to give you the affection you want_. Doubt hissed. And Doubt was right, but Peter couldn’t bring himself to care. Quentin _liked_ him. And it did feel _wonderful_ to kiss Quentin. It did feel _wonderful_ to have those hands on him. 

Peter made up his mind and stepped forward. He looped an arm around Quentin’s neck and connected their lips. It was a quick kiss, but it got the point across. And just to confirm it all Peter said “Yes.” 

The glasses that sat on the table gave a ding, signaling that the transfer had been completed. 

They ignored it to start another kiss. 

Peter kept one arm around Quentin's neck and let the other go to Quentin's hair. He played with the hair, tugging at it occasionally. In turn Quentin let his hands go to Peter's waist, dragging him closer so that their bodies were pressed together. 

From there, things _escalated_. 

And then Peter felt foolish for thinking _kissing_ felt good. Kissing was _nothing_ compared to how good it felt to have Quentin trail slow, teasing kisses down his body. Kissing was _nothing_ compared to how good it felt to have Quentin do wonders with that mouth on _certain_ parts of his body. Kissing was _nothing_ compared to how good it felt to have Quentin _in_ him and softly caressing him while whispering sweet words into his ear. Oh, but the _best_ part was the noises that left Quentin’s mouth. They were _beautiful_ noises and they pushed Peter closer and closer to the edge. 

Soon enough Peter knew he wasn’t going to last much longer. He tried to vocalize it, but the only real words he could get out were “Quentin...I’m..._Fuck_.” Thankfully, Quentin was a fucking _god_ and knew what Peter was trying to say. 

“I know...Me too…” Quentin’s voice was absolutely _wrecked_ and it was just what sent Peter over the edge. And Quentin followed soon after. 

They stayed in their position for a few moments before Quentin moved to lay beside Peter on the bed. He turned to gaze at Peter with a lazy smile displayed on his lips. That was easily Peter’s favorite smile on Quentin. “How are you feeling?” 

“_Great_.” He smiled back before moving to sit up. “But I need to clean up.” 

“Bathroom is that door.” Quentin pointed a finger at the bathroom door. Peter nodded, got up, and headed to the bathroom with the smile still on his lips. 

As soon as he got to the bathroom, he turned to look at himself in the mirror and his smile dropped. Not because of how he looked. He didn’t care about that. No, it was because his mind was doing that stupid thing again. _That just happened. And you can’t take it back. Way to go, Peter Benjamin Parker. You went and did that with someone just because they showed you affection one fucking time. I bet he’ll fuck you over at some point and you’ll hate yourself a whole lot for all of this_. 

Peter shook his head. Quentin wouldn’t do anything to fuck him over. Quentin was a _good guy_. He _cared_ about Peter. It was _fine_. 

He cleaned himself off then headed back to Quentin, who was now standing up with a shirt and pants now on his body. He had another one in hand and tossed it to Peter when he saw him enter the room again. “You can wear that. I have some pants for you too.” He grabbed a pair of pants and tossed those Peter’s way. 

“Thanks.” He put both pieces of clothing on before chewing on his lower lip. “I hate to have to hurry off, but I think I’ve been gone too long and someone’s totally noticed by now.” 

“It’s alright. I get it. Just be careful heading back, yeah?” Quentin sounded so genuine, and Peter’s thoughts from before almost disappeared. 

_Almost_. 

There was still the _tiniest_ part of his mind that screamed at him. _You’re so stupid! This was the worst thing you could’ve done! You need to get a control on your life! You can’t go around and let anyone have their way with you just because you like the affection and attention! So stupid!_

But that part was small enough for him to just pretend it wasn’t there. For now anyway. 

“Of course.” Peter shot Quentin a sweet smile. “And...um...thank you. For everything.” 

Quentin said nothing in response. Instead, he walked towards Peter and pressed one last kiss to his lips. Peter smiled softly and then turned to walk out the door. 

And that was the end of that situation. Or Peter _thought_ that was the end of that situation. 

But he left too quickly. He should’ve lingered. 

If he had lingered, he would’ve seen Quentin's lips curl into a sinister grin. He would've heard the snarky laugh that left Quentin's lips as he gazed at the glasses. He would've heard Quentin say “No, Peter. Thank _you_.” 

**Author's Note:**

> such a bittersweet treat. 
> 
> yeah, i hate me too, so don't even s a y it. 
> 
> OKAY, BUT DUDE. I'VE HAD THIS IDEA FOR FUCKING AGES AND I HAD THE WHOLE THING WRITTEN UP UNTIL THE "SMUT" PART SINCE FUCKING J U L Y. AND I FINALLY FINISHED IT, SO BE FUCKING PROUD. IT ONLY TOOK ME TIL 3 IN THE GODDAMN MORNING. I'M SO HAPPY I FINALLY FUCKING FINISHED IT. HOLY FUCK. 
> 
> okay, so i got the idea from,,,i actually do not fucking know. i think i read a fic like this and wanted to do one of my own???? but yeah, it's fucked up and so is every other thing i create because i'm 99% sure satan birthed me. 
> 
> but please leave me a comment and tell me how horrible my writing skills are and how horrible of a human i am. thank you kindly:)


End file.
